


Baby, Don't

by missbeizy



Category: Glee
Genre: AU, BDSM, Dacryphilia, Dom/sub, Gags, M/M, Nipple Play, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Punishment, Restraints
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-26
Updated: 2013-05-26
Packaged: 2017-12-13 02:06:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/818693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbeizy/pseuds/missbeizy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><a href="http://dreamyblaineanderson.tumblr.com/">dreamyblaineanderson</a> requested “non-verbal communication”, an anon requested “choir room at Dalton”, and another anon requested a <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/698949">Braided</a> one-shot.  </p>
<p>You don’t have to read <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/698949">Braided</a> to read this, just know that it’s a D/S verse.</p>
<p>This is the first time that Kurt has to punish Blaine.  Warnings for dacryphilia (being turned on by tears or sobbing), gagging/binding, and orgasm denial.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby, Don't

It's a flimsy excuse at best, but Blaine has discovered that Kurt likes it when he's impulsive--he tells Blaine that it's like watching a baby animal explore something new for the first time, seeing the excitement and then the discovery of a boundary. If there is one thing that they know they both love, it's Kurt being able to police and control those boundaries, to guide Blaine alongside them with a gentle hand. It's not that Blaine can't function perfectly well on his own, but that the pleasure they both take from Kurt being in control is so much.

So it's sheet music this time, just before the Warblers' practice in the choir room, a Sondheim number to start, laughing and reading the music and sharing a duet. And then it's a pop song, Blaine re-writing the music in places to suit Kurt's voice, and the two of them harmonizing for a while, fingers in each other's hair and bright, smiling lips pressed into skin.

Blaine kisses Kurt, kneeling over the dozens of pages of sheet music spread around them on the floor.

They're hiding behind one of the leather sofas at the back of the room, Blaine tottering forward with his hands held between them at the wrist by Kurt's fingers. They're so tight around Blaine's that it almost hurts; the thrill of discomfort is sweet. 

Kurt is kissing him in that way that makes his heart race--aggressive and confident, taking his mouth in bruising sweeps, not giving him time to catch up so that it can be made mutual. When the mood is right this kind of kissing is exactly what Blaine needs. Love and lust and control in one smooth gesture; he feels like the luckiest submissive in the entire school. 

His head starts to swim. It's so easy to go under when Kurt is touching him like this.

Kurt's fingers slide around his throat and gently squeeze. "Are you going to be good for me, sweetheart?"

Blaine whimpers, nodding. "Yes, Kurt."

His hand slides inside of Blaine's blazer, draws a hot path across his belly. The whisper of fingers on fabric is deafeningly loud in the silent, acoustically-superior room. Blaine exhales sharply when Kurt pinches his right nipple and then caresses it with the pad of a finger.

"Oh," he moans. 

Kurt repeats the process on the other, using the material of Blaine's shirt to make the drag rougher. He teases Blaine for a while longer, kissing him but holding him still by the throat so that he can't reciprocate much at all. Blaine doesn't test this hold; he has no desire to. Just being kept in place and touched is enough to make his thoughts go syrupy-slow.

Kurt's lips are warm against his throat, all breath and chapped drag. "Open your pants for me."

Shaking, Blaine pops the button on his pants and then lowers the zip.

Without speaking, Kurt unbuckles his belt and tugs it out of its loops, turning the warm leather over his wrist just once to keep it from flopping around. The noise of it creaking softly as he does so makes Blaine's throat close up. He can feel his body try to list forward, the urge to be good, to be so good, crawling beneath his skin.

"Please," he whimpers.

Kurt smiles, watching him with warm, heavy eyes. "Give me your hands." Blaine does, and Kurt loops the belt in a figure eight around his wrists until they're completely restrained.

"Kurt."

"Shh. I've got you." He resumes stroking, simple touches; his hands under Blaine's blazer, tracing the warmth of the body heat gathered there across his shoulders and back. Dipping low to follow the sharp seams and creases of his dress pants. He avoids the aching place between Blaine's legs until there is nowhere else to touch, and even when his fingertips find the throbbing ridge of Blaine's desperation their touch is so light that it makes him whine. He needs more.

Kurt pulls back to look at him, begins to say something--

And the door to the choir room opens. The Warblers begin to filter into the room. The room fills up in seconds and, though there are not enough of them that the couch at the back must be used, Kurt and Blaine are still only a short distance away from the nearest person.

The meeting is called to order. The conversation is loud enough so that if they whisper no one will hear them, but the situation puts Blaine on edge. He doesn't like that they're missing practice--god, they lost track of time entirely, and--

"Eyes on me," Kurt says.

Blaine immediately focuses on him.

"I expect your undivided attention when we're playing, Blaine. It doesn't matter who comes into the room or what happens unless you're in some kind of danger. Don't look away from me unless you're told," he explains, soft and careful, letting Blaine take in every word.

"Yes, sir," Blaine answers, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. And just a little bit of excitement. Is Kurt going to...?

Kurt kisses the corner of his mouth, and Blaine can feel him trembling. He's just as excited as Blaine is, and that knowledge makes Blaine feel better. "Just a small punishment, so that you understand the consequences."

Oh.

"We're going to miss this rehearsal, for starters," Kurt says, knowing that the disappointment will linger with Blaine and serve as a reminder of his mistake. "And--I'm going to need you to be very good and quiet for me. You want to make it up to me, don't you?" Those blue-green eyes bore into his, unrelenting and beautiful.

His chest fills with longing. He would do anything. He wants to make it up to Kurt so very much. He nods frantically, eyes swimming with tears.

"Beautiful," Kurt breathes. He waits a moment, then begins undoing Blaine's tie.

It's something they haven't really ever discussed, but Blaine knows how much--he swallows thickly. He knows how much Kurt gets off on seeing him give in to his emotions. 

He recalls the first time it had happened, Kurt inside of him, around him, loving him with his entire body, and Blaine became so overwhelmed that he began to cry. Kurt had tried to stop but Blaine had urged him through it, and as he'd sobbed Kurt had caught on, gotten harder and harder, fucked Blaine faster--

Do you need to cry for me, sweetheart? Okay. Okay, let it go. Let it go for me, just like that--so fucking beautiful, Blaine--

The memory makes his cock twitch and harden enough to push against the front of his underwear. He whimpers, biting his lip. Kurt tugs the tie from around his collar.

"Don't stop, but we need to make sure you can stay quiet," Kurt explains, eyes flicking hungrily over Blaine's aroused, tortured face. "Open your mouth."

Oh. Oh, god.

He opens as instructed and Kurt wraps the tie around his head, between his lips and teeth and ties it tightly.

"Okay?"

Blaine nods. In the absence of words nodding and head shaking suffices for them.

Kurt reaches between them and gently sweeps the pad of his thumb across the head of Blaine's cock, which is peaking out of his underwear now. "There you are," he whispers, tracing the sensitive skin. Blaine's tears continue to fall. "Breathe for me. We're going to be here for a long time, Blaine."

Shit.

Kurt's hand cups him but only just, sweeping lightly up and down his length. It's the barest whisper of a stroke, and it sends chills down Blaine's body. 

The Warblers have begun to practice. Their usual method of dancing and singing takes them all over the room, and every time one of them goes past the unused couch Blaine's heart pounds faster. They're all so close, and god knows with or without him they'll be climbing on the furniture, and--

They could see. They could see, they could hear, Blaine on his knees with his wrists tied and his mouth gagged, Kurt's hand on his cock. Oh, god. Oh god. He can't stop crying, why can't he stop?

Kurt's blown pupils center him. Staring into them helps and he just--he has to let go. The whole point of this is that he let go, that he let Kurt touch him, that he let Kurt take care of him. He has made a mistake and he deserves this, every minute of it. He has to learn.

Kurt never wavers in his light, frictionless petting. It's fine at first, and then as the minutes tick by, as the two hour rehearsal progresses, Blaine begins to realize that--Kurt has no intention of actually changing the pressure.

Halfway through rehearsal, the soft grip of his fingers is a torment. Blaine is sweating and rocking on his knees, the leather biting into his wrists and the gag in his mouth drenched with tears and spit. His cock actually hurts and the head is wet, weeping droplets onto the carpet so frequently that there's a line of pre-come joining it to the floor. His balls are swollen, hard to the touch. He's trembling so hard that he doesn't think he can stay upright for much longer.

Kurt is as impassive and immovable as he was an hour ago, wrist flexing in an endless loop as he strokes, strokes, strokes. He solicits Blaine for nods or denials every now and again, and he always gets a nod in response. 

Blaine floats in and out but can't fully go under, not with so many people in the room--he isn't that skilled at letting go yet.

Eventually, Blaine hears Wes say, "And find Kurt and Blaine--it's not like them to miss rehearsal."

The meeting is breaking up.

He sobs silently, throat shaking. Will Kurt let him come when they leave, or will he send Blaine back to his room? Blaine has no idea.

"Shh," Kurt whispers, circling the base of his cock and squeezing it, hard.

The room slowly empties and finally, finally, after two hours or more, they're alone.

"Look at you," Kurt says.

Blaine is fairly sure that he's a mess; he knows that his face is red and blotchy from crying, that his tie is ruined, that he's barely able to stay on his knees, that his cock is so hard and sensitive and dark with blood that he almost wishes Kurt would let it go, that he's so far beyond needing to come that it's almost comical. 

He's been pushed right to his limit, but not over it.

It's incredible.

Kurt's fingers let go of the base of his cock and he breathes, "Come."

Blaine's mind fractures under the command; he falls forward, head colliding with Kurt's shoulder as the orgasm rips through him; he shoots wet and hard, all over himself and the floor, sobbing and shaking.

It hurts. He can't breathe.

He closes his eyes, feeling Kurt's arms come around his shoulders, and something about that is even more debilitating than the permission to come. He whimpers, pressing his face into Kurt's warm neck, inhaling the comforting scent of his cologne. Kurt gently unties the gag and unwraps it from around Blaine's head.

"Kurt," Blaine cries.

"Your punishment is complete. You did so well, honey. I'm so proud."

He can't stop crying, even now, but it's just silent tears. He curls closer into the curve of Kurt's body, trembling as Kurt frees his wrists and begins rubbing them to get the blood flowing again. He wants to ask to be allowed to make Kurt come, but that would be a reward and he knows it's too soon for that.

"Thank you," he whispers, and whether he's thanking Kurt for the scene or God for sending him this beautiful young man, he isn't sure.


End file.
